Spinning Bottles
by writerz.anonymous
Summary: It's only a matter of time until he and those bottles shatter; and when they do, the glass shards are going to cut them all to pieces, and tear them all to shreds.


a/n: Hello Outsiders fandom! This one shot was just a little idea I got while listening to this amazing song while reading some of my favorite stories on here. Please note, some of these lyrics (seen throughout the story between line breaks as _Italics)_ have been modified ( ** _bold italics_** ) from the original song to better fit/make sense to the scenarios created in this little short. Hope y'all enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it!

 **DISCLAIMER** : All rights to the story, characters, and original plot of _The Outsiders_ belong to the talented S.E. Hinton. All rights to the song _Spinning Bottles_ belong to Carrie Underwood and her incredible team of musicians. The only thing in which I own is my plot developed throughout this one-shot alone.

With all that said, read on!

 **- XxX-**

 _ **He's** waiting, praying, that he don't drive tonight,_

 _ **He's** pacing the floor, **he's** checking the time,_

 _Wondering how the glow of that porch light hasn't gone out,_

 _Because it's been on now_

 **- XxX-**

Each and every time, no matter how many times this happens, he can't help but feel a hellish, nostalgic flashback to the very first time. A hit, a run, a chase, and a tragedy. A dramatic series of unfortunate events that has seemingly managed to continue to follow them all. And as Darry anxiously paces his home, unable to remain still, his eyes seem to catch the attention of that old lightbulb burning on their creaky front porch.

Darry believes if he stares at it long enough, it takes him back to that exact moment. He swears he can still feel the sting on his worn hand from the force of the hit he delivered to his baby brother that night; and boy, he knows for a fact that he'll never forget the look in Ponyboy's eyes- the shock, the anger, the hurt, the betrayal, but most of all, the slightest bit of fear- all because of _him_. He'll regret that day for the rest of his life.

Though he knows that it's been two years since that incident, and that it doesn't apply to tonight's circumstances, he can't help but make the connection. He wonders, that maybe if he had done something differently that first night, they wouldn't be here; but Darry, of all people, knows that there's no time to drown in the 'what-ifs'.

As he paces those squeaking floorboards, he's almost certain he's aged 20 extra years in the course of only three. He's practically driven to drink, and startlingly realizes that he's actually legal to do so now, too; but the thought of even touching a drop goes as quickly as it comes, leaving him feeling like he's going to be sick. After all, that seems to be the issue at hand this time.

 **- XxX-**

 _For three days straight, he's been nowhere to be found,_

 _Probably drowning in the neon, where the **truck** broke down_

 **- XxX-**

He runs. He runs fast, he runs hard, and he runs well. If there's one thing Ponyboy Curtis can do, it's run. However, no matter how long he tries, he knows deep down he can never outrun this.

He's never had it easy. His entire life had been one struggle after another, but he had his family with him- always. But a grown man, let alone just a 16 year old boy, can only take so much; and for Ponyboy Curtis, losing his family was the limit.

He doesn't know how it got so bad, let alone when or why. Hell, at this point, he's even lost count of all the 'who's. The only thing he knows for certain, is that he runs; and he knows no matter how close he gets, he can't runaway from the loss that seems to follow him as his shadow, and the demons that plague him.

At just age 13, he lost not one, but _both_ parents to death. At age 14, he lost _two_ friends as good as brothers, to death. At age 15, he lost yet another friend, and his brother (the closest relationship he's ever had) along with him, all to that damn dreaded war. And now, at age 16, he's losing himself- and he doesn't know how to be found.

Ponyboy won't accept defeat, however; and though he may not be able to outrun his past, and what seems to be a condemned future, he will most definitely run from the present while he still can.

He's not sure what prompted him to go on yet another "retreat" this time, but he tells himself he needs it. Hell, he doesn't even know _where_ he's going, he just knows that it's away from here, and that's good enough for him.

Until suddenly, he's jerked from his thoughts instantly. He doesn't know how he missed it at first, but now that he's aware, he knows he can't forget.

Maybe it's the drugs coursing through his veins, the pain clouding his mind, or maybe the alcohol flowing throughout his body; but whatever it may be, it can't change the past- which is exactly where Ponyboy seems to be, staring at the exact spot his parents lost their lives to the same drink he seems to be losing himself to.

He runs- but what he doesn't know, is you can't run on water without drowning.

 **- XxX-**

 _ **He** called up his **brother** ,_

 _And his friends in town,_

 _But they ain't seen him,_

 _Another night of no sleepin'_

 **- XxX-**

Two-Bit Matthews hasn't touched a drop of his beverage of choice in over six months. To most, this seems like nothing more than an inconvenience. To those who know him, however, it's an overwhelming statement.

He didn't chose to do this. Hell, if he had it his way, he'd have those bloodshot eyes, slurred speech, and that warm, liquid-filled gut faster than you can even say the word "shot"; but he just can't even bring himself to so much as look at the old drink, now.

He just can't do it. The withdrawal was hell, but nothing could be more hellish than this.

Because everytime Two-Bit sees an ounce of alcohol now, all he sees is his best friend.

All he sees is that 16 year old boy who went through hell and back, way too young. He sees that dreamer, with his head stuck in the clouds, turning to some other subtances to getting that high up, far away from the reality beneath him. He sees a kid who ever-so slowly had to watch as his whole entire family fell apart- the only people that poor, east side greaser ever had.

But what he sees most are the former green-gray, innocent eyes of his buddy that turned that errie, haunted, bloodshot crimson. Those are the eyes that haunt him- that will _always_ haunt him.

It's those eyes he continues to search for with his own right now. Everywhere around the supposed small town of Tulsa they live in (though at the moment, it feels anything _but_ small), Two-Bit desperately tries to find him.

However, he knows it's a lost cause. He's done this search too many times already to know that. And so, with a heavy heart, he carefully walks to the local payphone to call that big brother of his best friend's, and let him down once again.

 **- XxX-**

 _Round and around, and around they go,_

 _Will it end? Nobody knows,_

 _ **He's** all cried out on the kitchen floor,_

 _Spinning rooms, spinning wheels, spinning outta control,_

 _Spinning bottles,_

 _Spinning bottles_

 **- XxX-**

He quietly approaches the porch, seeing the light still flickering. He sighs, and can't help but think, _Just another bill to pay_.

After staring for who knows how long, Ponyboy finally climbs the steps. He opens the screen door, and shuts it as quietly as possible. He sighs in relief when he doesn't hear a sound. He walks to the kitchen to get a glass of water before heading to his room, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees his big brother sleeping on the kitchen table. _Better him sleeping than yelling at me_. Confused, Pony makes a start to wake up the man, but freezes when he sees the books surrounding him.

 _Adolescent Grieving, Alcohol and Subtance Abuse, Overcoming Addiction, Teenage Mental Health..._

He walks backwards straight into the counter. He feels like he's going to throw up, and he knows it ain't the drugs causing it.

He's never ran out of that house so fast in his life.

 **- XxX-**

 _He's in a **motel** room with the TV on,_

 _Gettin' lost in the static with the curtains drawn,_

 _Knowing this could be the time that gets **him** gone for good,_

 _He'd quit if he could_

 **- XxX-**

For as long as Pony can remember, he's had very few rules set in place in his life. When his parents were still around, they hadn't asked him of much. All they had requested was he worked hard, and didn't fight. After their death, and Darry took over, more rules got thrown into the mix. Keep straight A's, focus on track, get that head of his out of the clouds, make some friends, and many more where that came from. Pony didn't realize at the time his brother had just been worried about him, that he so desperately wanted the best for him, and so he took these rules as a sign of hate towards him, rather than tough love from one of the only family members he had left. He kicks himself everyday for being so stupid.

However, the most important rule, throughout his entire life was simply this: stay out of trouble. He was a greaser, after all, and greasers lived on the wrong side of the tracks. They got the shit end of the stick, as they had always put it. The last thing Ponyboy needed was to get caught up in that mess, too.

And for the most part, he follwed it. He was a good kid, and he wasn't like the rest of them. Despite his ability to draw danger his way, he did do his best to avoid it, and that he did just fine.

However, now, he seems to be yet again breaking that sacred rule that he's broken too many times to count.

Which is how Ponyboy Curtis had somehow ended up at Buck's. One of the only places he was ever forbidden to go to.

He sighs as he takes a slow, agonizing sip of his whiskey. He knows he's letting his brother (the only brother _left)_ down, _again_ , but he's too far gone to lift anybody else up, let alone himself.

He knows one of these days, Darry'll really let him have it. How he hasn't given up on his sorry ass yet, he'll never understand. I mean really, if he thought he wasn't enough for him or loved by him before, he himself is practically the devil now. And yet still, Darry refuses to quit. He's 16, he could so easily be thrown into a boys home, or at this point probably jail, and he knows he's walking on thin ice; but Ponyboy doesn't know how to stop running all over it.

So, he just sits in the isolated darkness of his room at Buck's, staring at the rippling static on the tiny box in front of him- because it's the only thing really keeping him tied down. Taking another gulp of the burning liquid, he really can't help but think that maybe he's not so different from the rest of them, after all.

 **- XxX**

 _But one down, two down, three down, four_

 _Can't even recognize the man in the mirror anymore_

 **- XxX-**

6 bottles, 4 drags, and a sunrise he refuses to watch later, Ponyboy knows he has to go back to the house- he stopped calling it home a long time ago. He despises that place and all it represents, but if nothing else, he owes it to his brother to show him he's still alive, for whatever that's worth.

Feeling the hangover already slowly settling in, he trudges to the bathroom groggily. As he cups water into his hands and gently washes his face, he involuntarily looks into the mirror and is horrified at what he sees.

 _Sodapop_.

He always heard he looked strikingly similar to his movie star handsome brother, but he could never see it for himself. Then again, Sodapop's always been the golden boy in Ponyboy's eyes... and he'll never see gold when he looks at himself. Not anymore.

It's so painful he has to turn away instantly. Because he _does_ have the face of his brother, and now that's all he can see. However, he doesn't have his eyes.

God oh mighty, he had always had an issue with his own eyes. He never liked them, but his brother's were a different story. Sodapop had rich, chocolate colored eyes, that made everyone who looked into them melt immediately. Always bright and full of life, you couldn't help but smile and be in awe of him. His entire personality shown thrown those orbs, and he was the most happy-go lucky guy you'd ever meet; especially a guy being a greaser stuck on the east side of Tulsa.

Pony had plain, greenish-grey eyes that he would persist 'til the day he died were grey. He was always more introverted, especially compared to his older brother, and he more often then not kept himself guarded, only a few being able to really see through his eyes what he truly felt. Now, though... they're just empty. Completely vacant, and void, of any, and all, emotion. And the more he focuses on them, he subconsciously comes to the conclusion that had they been blue instead of the bloodshot crimson they are now, they would have been pretty dead-on close to the eyes of Dallas Winston.

And that _terrifies_ him, because it's not him. Whoever that man behind the glass is- it's not him. He doesn't know who that is.

He doesn't know how long it took, but as he stares back into the mirror once again, he sees the tears welling up in his eyes, begging to be released. He doesn't have any fight left in him to stop them, and so they flow.

He sees a burned, crippled boy in a hospital bed. He sees a gallant young man shot down under a dim streetlight. He sees a broken man coming home from a cruel war without his best friend, sending him down a dark path they all had to follow. But worst of all, he sees two men dressed in crisp uniforms saluting him at his front door, passing him a flag and the final dreaded letter, marching away unbeknownst to the damage left in their wake.

Johnny. Dallas. Steve. Sodapop.

Four out of seven gone, only three left to go. And that's not even including his parents.

God, he misses them all so much.

And that's when Ponyboy Curtis breaks.

 **- XxX-**

 _Round and around, and around they go,_

 _Will it end? Nobody knows,_

 _He's passed out on the bathroom floor,_

 _Spinning rooms, spinning wheels, spinning outta control,_

 _Spinning bottles,_

 _Spinning bottles_

 **- XxX-**

He doesn't go back.

Everything's a blur after staring at his reflection for oh-so long. But he knows he's lost control, and he's done. He can't run anymore.

He's so tired. He just wants to sleep. He just wants to sleep and not wake up.

He doesn't know where he gets the pills, what kind they are, or how many he takes, but as he swallows them down with yet another blasted bottle, he prays to the God he doesn't believe in that it's enough. He just wants to go home, be with the people he lost, and this is the only way to get there.

Somewhere in his drug-induced haze, he grabs the phone. He doesn't remember anything about the call; he doesn't know who, he doesn't know how long, and he has absolutely, no idea why.

And what he really doesn't know yet, is that call would save his life.

All he's aware of is falling unconscious right there on the dirty, bathroom tiles; but not without that same, grim smile of tragic triumph on his face that he saw, and cursed at, two years ago.

 _Nothing Gold Can Stay._

 **- XxX-**

 _This ain't a game,_

 _Nobody wins,_

 _Yeah nobody gets lucky,_

 _When that bottle spins,_

 _Again, and again,_

 _And again, and again,_

 _Again, and again_

 **- XxX-**

Steve Randle wasn't drafted to go to 'Nam in the summer of 1967.

His best friend was.

He'll never forget that day, as it will always haunt him. His best friend had missed his shift at the DX with no call explaining his absence. That alone had thrown him off, and as soon as he finished up on his last car of the day, he went looking. He wasn't at any of the normal spots, like at home or at the races. He even went as far as to check the graveyard, taking moments of silence when he came upon their fallen family members. So, he went looking at the one place he _really_ shouldn't be.

Buck's.

And sitting right there on that wooden bar stool, was none other than Sodapop Curtis.

Oh, Darry was going to kill him.

However, he knew Soda wasn't a heavy drinker, and had only stepped foot into that bar a handful of times; when his parents were killed, during the hell week that was Windrixville, and when Johnny and Dallas died.

Oh, _hell_ no.

He slowly approaches his buddy, and apprehensively takes a seat next to him. Further worrying him when Soda doesn't even flinch, he begins to asks what's wrong until Soda cuts him off.

"I got the notice, Steve. I've been drafted."

He's floored. Soda doesn't say or do anything else, except take another shot of coke and whiskey. All Steve can think is, _please God, anyone but **him**_.

"Okay... when do we leave?"

And _that_ gets a responce out of Soda. Whipping his head in Steve's direction, quite possibly getting whiplash from moving so fast, Steve can finally see into those eyes of his; and he doesn't like what he sees.

Red eyes, that he'll pass off as from the alcohol rather than the truth of he was crying, hiding a life's worth of pain and fear.

"Steve, no-"

"You can't stop me, Soda. My life, my choice. You're the only reason I'm still here. Wherever you go, I follow. You're my best friend, and we're in this together."

He doesn't respond, and he knows he doesn't have to. He's not okay with his decision, but he can't hide the relief in his eyes at the notion of not being alone.

However, it's short lived, as they got split up. They were thrown into different platoons and the only real contact they kept up was writing. Until Steve got shot down in an ambush, completely destroying his left shoulder. After months of grueling recovery, and regaining slight mobility, he was to be shipped back home on honorable discharge.

He doesn't know how he pulls it off, but Soda somehow finds a way to see him one last time before he goes. He's got those same pain and fear filled eyes that he saw sitting at that bar, and it unnerves him beyond belief.

"I told you, you shouldn't have come."

"Well, tough shit."

He gets a bitter chuckle out of Soda, but as quick at it comes, it goes, and he looks on at him with a seriousness that Sodapop Curtis shouldn't have.

"Steve, I need you to do something for me."

He doesn't like the sound of that. He doesn't like the sound of any of this.

"Soda, I swear to God if you're trying to give me some crappy last word goodbye-"

"Just shut up and listen to me, will ya?!" Soda yells, and it's the desperation in his tone that makes him bite his tongue. "Damn it Steve, I'm not an idiot, and neither are you. Chances are I'm not going back. You are. I need to be realistic here, and so do you. I need you to do me a favor. I can tell they're trying to keep me in the dark because they don't want to worry me; but Steve, I know they're not doing so well over there. I can _feel it_. I need you to look after Ponyboy. I can't right now, and it kills me. I need you to take care of him until I can. And God forbid if I don't make it back... you let him know I loved him more than anything, and you hold him together. Hold the gang together, and let them know they were my family, and I loved them with everything I had. Promise me Stevie, _please_."

All he does is nod. He doesn't have the words, and Soda doesn't ask him to. He goes to leave but at the last second turns and gives him one of those rare smiles that he hasn't seen in a very long time. "Despite what you think, I'm not the only one who can handle the Randle, buddy."

And that was the last time he saw his best friend.

Three months after his return, they get the letter saying Soda was Killed in Action. He tries to remember his friend's words, and keep the promise he made, but he doesn't. It's been one month since then, and Steve has spent it grieving the only way he knew how- drinking. Then, he got caught up in the Tulsa drug fest and he doesn't know who he's become, but he's in too deep now. What's left of the gang tried to pull him out, but with Pony's mental breakdowns (that he reminds himself, _he_ was supposed to prevent), Darry trying to be strong through his own grief for the sake of his brother, and Two-Bit split up between them all, there was no chance they would've been able to. Besides, the only one who could ever really pull him out of this mess was dead.

Or so he thought.

He wakes up one morning hungover and ready to repeat the day over the same as he has the last 31 days. As he stretches and groans, rising from the couch, he hears the ringing of his telephone, halting all his movements. No one calls him anymore.

He's confused, and can't tell if it's some of the drugs still in his system from the night before making him hear things. However, after the third ring, he finally makes the move to answer it.

"... Hello?"

All Steve can hear is heavy breathing, which is slowly morphing into a half chuckle and half sob. Right as he goes to hang up, the voice on the phone makes him freeze in his spot. "Are you stoned right now?"

It's the damn kid again. "Ponyboy, what the hell do you want?"

"Heh... well... I kinda caught myself in a... _situation_ , of sorts," he replies, his voice slurring.

He sighs, trying to reign in his frustration. "Pone, get to the point, before I hang up on your sorry ass."

"I know why you've avoided me since you came back. It's because of him, isn't it?"

His eyes widen, and he nervously gulps. "Kid, what-"

"The man behind the glass. He looks just like him, except the eyes... he has Dally's eyes. I'll never have his eyes."

He knows exactly what the kid's talking about, but he's in denial and refuses to accept it. "Ponyboy... what did you do?"

All he hears back is sobbing. "I miss them all so much, Steve. I can't do this anymore."

It's that same desperation in his tone that takes him back. Suddenly, he's not standing in his kitchen on his phone. He's on a lousy bed in the army's infirmary, staring back at his best friend, begging him to protect his baby brother. _Promise me Stevie, **please**._

"Ponyboy, where are you?! I'm coming to get you." Though he already has an idea of where the kid's at.

"It's too late, Stevie... m'already gone."

"Ponyboy... damnit!" He slams the telephone down after hearing the disconnected dial.

It's a total shot in the dark, but it's all he has to go off of. So, he throws on a pair of shoes, and sprints with whatever might he has left to Buck's.

Once he gets there, he looks around for the bartender himself, with no luck. It is pretty early, after all.

 _Come on, Randle, use your head!_ He thinks over everything Pony said in his disorderly state. _He has Dally's eyes_... Dally. He's in Dally's old room.

 _I miss them all so much Steve, I can't do this anymore._

He bolts up the stairs and finds the number on the door. He knocks desperately, trying to get a responce. "Pone, it's Steve, open the damn door!"

After a few moments of nothing, Steve breaks down the door. Still nothing.

"Where the hell is-" _The man behind the glass_... a mirror? The bathroom mirror!

Steve walks to the door and turns the knob. The door creaks open, and there laying on the floor, knocked out cold, is Ponyboy Curtis.

"Oh shit kid," He kneels down, and checks for a pulse, just like the damned army taught him. It's faint, but it's there. He sighs in relief, and leaves the boy for a few moments to call for an ambulance. Then, he looks around the bathroom looking for any sign of what he took.

He sees the alcohol bottles... and a lot of them. Way too many. He looks ahead and sees the one bottle different from the rest, surrounded by pills. LSD.

"Damn it, kid... I'm so sorry. This is... kid, this is all my fault. You gotta stay with me you little shit, you hear?! We lost too many, we can't... we can't lose you too, Pone."

Steve sighs, his voice cracking at the end. He looks down at the boy and that's when his tears fall.

The kid had a drunken mind, but a sober heart. He knew exactly what he was talking about... God damn, he looks so much like Sodapop.

He hates himself more in that moment than he ever has before. And he swears, _when_ Ponyboy makes it through this, he'll be there. He'll make good on his promise.

"I miss 'em too, kid... we all do."

 **- XxX-**

 _So, round and around, and around they go,_

 _Will this end? Nobody knows,_

 _Can't live like this anymore,_

 _Spinning rooms, spinning wheels, spinning outta control,_

 _Spinning bottles,_

 _Spinning bottles_

 **- XxX-**

Darry is unwillingly woken up from his sleep, not by the blinding rays of the sun, but by... Two-Bit? As he attempts to roll out the kinks in his neck, he studies the expression on Two-Bit's face, and immediately rises when he sees it's one of anxiousness.

"What happened?" He asks hurriedly.

"D-Darry, listen, we-we've been trying to call you-" He nervously stutters.

"Where's my brother, _Keith_?"

Two sighs, and with reluctance, bluntly states, "Saint Mary's."

Darry doesn't need to ask why. He just grabs his keys and makes a move to get his car when Two-Bit tells him he's driving them. He doesn't argue.

The entire 15 minute ride is silent, with Darry trying his hardest to maintain composure. The tension thickens the minute they pull into the parking lot. Once Two-Bit stops the car, he expects Darry to jump out and make a mad dash for the waiting room. He's confused, however, when Darry doesn't even flinch.

With a heavy sigh, Darry asks, "How bad is it?"

"I'm not sure man, I got the call from Steve-"

Darry's neck cracks with the force used to turn his head. "Steve?!" he repeats, shocked.

"Yeah, Stevie's the one that found him. Didn't tell me much, just said he tried calling you a bunch of times from the hospital's line with no answer, so he finally called me and told me to get you."

Darry just stares on at him, confusion and fear evident on his face. "He's never needed a hospital, Two. Not like this. What if-"

"Stop, Dar. Don't talk like that, we'll figure it out when we get in there," Two-Bit says while opening his door, waiting for Darry to follow. He doesn't.

"Two-bit, I just... I can't..." His voice wavers, looking back towards the hospital.

It's in that moment Two-Bit realizes why he's not rushing to go in there. It's the same hospital they brought his parents to after the crash, and where he had to ID them. The same hospital Johnny died in, and Dallas' soul along with him. "He's not dead, Darry, and he ain't gonna die."

"How do you know that?" Darry counters.

"Because we haven't gone in there yet. He's a Curtis, and Curtis' fight 'til the end. He's your little brother, you've seen all he's been through, and he's still here. He's a survivor, you can't give up on him. Not now."

With that said, Darry opens his door, and sluggishly walks into the hospital, approaching the front desk. From there, he's directed to the I.C.U waiting room, paperwork in hand, where he sees Steve fidgeting in his seat. Upon hearing their entrance, he nervously stands up and rubs his hands against his jeans. "Darrel, I'm-"

He doesn't even get to finish his sentence as he's attacked by Darry's bear hug. "Don't call me Darrel, Randle. You know better than that."

Steve is flabbergasted and at a loss for words. When he recovers, he sighs, "He overdosed on LSD, and most likely has alcohol poisoning. He called me sounding hysterical and I found him in Dally's old room at Buck's."

"How'd you know where to go, Stevie? " Two-bit questions.

Steve doesn't say anything at first, caught in the memory of Soda that night at the bar. The two really were practically twins, except for the age difference, despite what Pony believed. "Lucky guess."

Two barks out a laugh, "We're greasers, we don't have luck, dumbass."

Despite himself, Steve chuckles, "Well, we did today."

Darry anxiously paces the floor, and wonders aloud, "How long has he been back there?"

"I found him around six this morning, ambulance came as soon as I called, it was a 15 minute drive over here, so about... three hours?" Steve answers. "I tried calling you around eight, Dar, but I couldn't get a hold of you. So I called Two-Bit a few times, and he finally answered and well... here we are."

"How bad was he, Steve?" Darry asks.

"Honestly," Steve sighs, "I'm not going to lie, Darry, they lost him in the ambulance. Took 'em two minutes to jump start his heart back. I thought he was dead when I first found him, but I found a pulse, though it was faint."

Darry just stares at him, terrified, while Two-Bit mumbles a curse under his breath.

"I-I'm so sorry, Darry. This is all my fault, I d-didn't... I mean, I- just... shit man, I'm a mess," Steve cries, openly letting his tears fall, stunning the other two men in the waiting room.

Darry gulps, "Steve, hey, this isn't your fault. Ponyboy he," Darry pauses, swallowing back the guilt upon saying his younger brother's name, "he's a bottler. He keeps everything he feels inside and locks it away instead of dealing with it. The only people he could talk to before it got to be too much are gone now. He doesn't deal with things the way we do and-"

"Oh, but doesn't he?!" Steve snaps, "Clearly he does! He's drinking, taking drugs, causing and finding trouble- he's _exactly_ like us! Like _me_ , Darry. I was supposed to protect him, Soda-"

"Soda?" Darry whispers, "What do you mean 'Soda'? What're you talking about?"

Steve hesitates at first, but then admits, "Before I left 'Nam, Soda came to talk to me. It- it was our last conversation. He- he made me promise to take care of Pony... let him know he loved him... loved all of us. But I didn't. I'm a coward who couldn't follow through because _every time_ I saw Ponyboy, I saw Sodapop, and _I_ couldnt take it! So I started drinking, I started doing drugs, I drove myself away from you guys. Then, when that damn letter came... I went overboard, I lost it, and I wasn't there for him. I didn't keep my promise, and LOOK WHERE IT GOT US!" Steve shouts, sitting down as his grief overcame him.

The only sounds that filled the waiting room were the sounds of rolling carts, nurses whispering to another, and the occasional chatter between other familes outside of the waiting room. As the tension continued to rise within the room, the other two men sat down next to Steve. After roughly 10 minutes of silence, Darry decides it's a good enough time to speak.

"You couldn't change what was going to happen."

"But I could have tried," Steve whispers.

"We all could have," Two-Bit joins in, "hell, we all _did!_ But Steve, none of us our Soda. None of us will ever be able to comfort him like Soda could."

"I wish he was here. God, I wish he was still here," Steve sighs.

"You and me both, buddy. But he's not, and we're all Pony's got. We all miss him- hell, we miss _all of them_. But we can't stop living just because we lose someone," Darry finishes.

With those words said, the boys remain quiet until a doctor comes out into the waiting room about three hours later.

"Family of Ponyboy Curtis?" He questions.

They all rise as if they're defendants in a court case, all awaiting their fate through the jury's verdict.

Dr. John Neal approaches the men and confirms Steve's suspicions, stating Pony overdosed on LSD, and had a severe case of alcohol poisoning. They lost him twice, once in the ambulance, and the second time on the operating table while Pony underwent liver failure. However, overall, he confirms Ponyboy's going to be just fine, saying he's "one helluva fighter", and that they were incredibly lucky. They tell him they want to keep him in I.C.U for a few days for observation, and then move him to a regular room, but he's expected to make a full recovery. However, a big concern is the suicidal tendencies and risks Ponyboy still exhibits, and they're waiting for him to wake up to proceed further in his recovery plan.

All the guys let out an audible sigh of relief at the good news. Thanking the doctor, they follow his directions to Pony's room. When they get inside the room, all eyes fall on the 16 year old lying still in his hospital bed.

"He looks about two years younger when he's sleeping," Two-Bit comments.

"Yeah... he always has," Darry gives a watery chuckle, gripping his baby brother's cold, limp hand.

No other words are exchanged between them as they all sit in the uncomfortable, plastic chairs around his bed, each getting lost in their own thoughts, with nothing but the sound of Pony's heart monitor filling the room.

Roughly two hour later, Ponyboy begins to stir. Mumbling incoherently under his breath, he pulls the others out of their own trains of thought, all focusing on him.

"Pony, honey, can you hear me?" Darry asks.

"Hm? Wha- Darry, that you?" Ponyboy mutters.

"Yeah, Little Colt, it's me. Can you open your eyes up for me?"

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

After a few moments of no responce and tense silence, Ponyboy does as he was asked, and slowly takes in his surroundings.

"I thought I- I was dead... how am I still here... where even is here?" He slurs.

"You're in the hospital Pone," Two-Bit gently tells him.

"What... how... how did I get here?"

"You gave me a call, Ponyboy. Don't you remember?" Steve questions.

He turns to Steve, confusion clearly etched onto his face. "Since when are you back?"

Steve flinches at the harsh words and clenches his jaw, but before he can say anything, Darry calmly states, "Ponyboy, we need to talk."

He redirects his attention to his older brother, pure terror plain as day on his face, "No, I'm good, but thanks," he rushes.

"I don't think there was a question there kid," Two-Bit mentions with a sad smile on his face.

The beeping of his heart moniter begins to drone on, louder and faster than before. He hurriedly looks anywhere but their faces, and mumbles out, "I don't wanna talk no more."

"Well, tough shit," Steve repeats, as déjà vu hits him full force with his choice of words.

"Shut up, Randle. Why do you even care, huh?" Pony snaps.

 _Withdrawl, it's the withdrawl, it's just the drugs talking_ , Steve reminds himself. "Well seeing as you just tried to go and off yourself, and called _me_ of all people right after, I think you gave me the right to care."

He visibly pales at the words gritted out by Steve, but refuses to back down from the confrontation. "You don't know nothing, Steve."

"Then explain it to me, would ya? Come on kid," Steve replies.

"You wouldn't understand!"

"Then MAKE ME, you little shit!" Steve screams.

"Guys, cool off-" Two-Bit tries to intervene.

"I WANTED TO DIE, STEVE! There! You happy now? What do you want me to say, huh?!"

Nothing but tense silence between all four of the men in the room. Steve feels the blood rushing to his head, and all Ponyboy can hear is that damn beeping. "Why'd you do it, Ponyboy?"

That came from Darry. Disappointment, sadness, pain, and worry, all rolling off him in tidal waves with the few words spoken. _Beep. Beep. Beep._

Finally, "I-I... I was desperate. I was so... so _tired_ , and desperate and... and I couldn't run anymore," Ponyboy sighs.

"Run from what, Pone?" Two-Bit whispers.

"The man behind the glass." Steve answers for him.

Ponyboy quickly averts his gaze from his bed sheets to the man that is glaring holes into his head. "How do you know that?!"

"Phone call, Pone. We've already been over this. You wanna tell them, or should I?" Steve replies smoothly.

"You left too, ya know. We went from seven to three, and _now_ you wanna come back? You've been running too, and _now_ you're suddenly all better? Why?!" Ponyboy counters.

"The man behind the glass, Pone. You already know why."

As Pony and Steve continue their staring contest, Darry and Two-Bit look on, totally lost to where their conversation is going.

Exhaling the breath he'd been holding, knowing he was going to lose either way, he turns away from Steve, and turns towards his buddy and his brother. "We lost our parents to the crash when I was 13. We lost Johnny and Dally to Windrixville when I hit 14. We lost Steve and... and Soda," he pauses, choking back the sob at his brother's name, "when I turned 15 to the Vietnam War. Now I'm 16, and I lost... well, I lost myself. Steve came back only to leave, and Soda... Soda never came back. And he never will," At this, he openly sobs and lets the tears flow down his face in rivers. "At first, I tried. I tried to keep living the life you all wanted me to; but Darry threw himself into his work, and Two-Bit avoided me and Darry, always getting drunk to forget, and Steve was long gone by then. I was so... _alone_. Then, the years went by, and the deaths stacked up. First my parents, then my best friend, then my buddy right after, and then finally my brother and... I just didn't have it in me to care anymore. So, I ran. I ran to the trouble, I ran to the alcohol, I ran to the drugs, and I couldn't stop running. And then finally, I ended up at Buck's last night. I went to wash my face, and I looked into the mirror, and... I didn't recognize who was staring back at me, anymore. All I could see was Soda's face, with Dally's eyes and cold personality. I wasn't _me_ anymore, and I knew I couldn't run from it, either. I was so tired from all the running, all the pain and... and I was desperate to go to a place that actually _felt_ like home and see them all again. I miss them so damn much and... and I don't know."

All at a loss of words at the boy's confession, they all sit in relative silence until finally, Two-Bit breaks it.

"I've been sober since the first night you got blackout drunk," he informs Ponyboy.

Pony quickly rotates his head to him, shock portraying on his face. "You _what?"_

"Yeah Pony, I did," Two-bit sighs, "I haven't drank in 6 months. Every time I saw that bottle, I saw you and... I couldn't take it anymore. I spent the new found time looking for you when ever you started running," he finishes with a chuckle.

Pony looks on with a guilty expression, "Two... I-"

"I avoided you kid," Steve admits.

"Oh way to lighten the mood there, Stevie!" Two-Bit sarcastically commends.

"Shut up Two-Bit, I'm getting there," Steve glares, then returns his gaze to Ponyboy. "Like I was saying, I avoided you. As soon as I got back, I went on some kind of tangent, and I distanced myself from everyone... but, especially you. I went on a similar path that you went down kid, and it almost killed the both of us. I know the drunk you knows why, he called me out on it... but I'm not quite sure if the sober you knows."

Ponyboy says nothing, letting Steve finish his thoughts.

"Ponyboy when you called me, you told me I avoided you because of the man behind the glass. And as crazy as that makes you sound... you were right. At first, I didn't acknowledge what you said, because you were clearly messed up... but then I found you on Dally's bathroom floor and... God, you looked so much like Soda, it was errie. And I," Steve pauses, trying to get a hold of his emotions. "I miss him, too. He was my best buddy. Pone... he was my Johnny. Everytime I saw you, I was reminded of what I lost, and I couldn't take it."

Pony just looks on with glassy eyes, reminded once again of all the people he's lost. "Steve..."

Steve gives a watery laugh, "I ain't finished yet, ya' little shit. Some of us ain't book smart and take awhile to get our thoughts straight," he jokes, getting a bitter chuckle out of Pony. "I made a promise to your brother the last time I saw him, kid."

Pony gives a start and the new information, and lets out a single tear. "What did Soda say?"

"He told me, that he had to be realistic and... he wasn't sure if he was going to make it back or not. I swear you two are twins, because he just kept telling me something was off with you... y'all have telepathy or something? Anyways, he-uh... he made me promise to look out for you until he could again. He also wanted you to know... Pone, that brother of yours loved you so much... more than anything."

Ponyboy lets out a sob, despair filling every part of him at the mention of his lost brother. The silence filling the room once again, Darry finally speaks his mind.

"You know you died twice? Once in the ambulance, and once on the operating table," Darry cries. "And do you know how much it _killed me_ , Pone? I thought it was my heart that stopped, not yours. Kiddo, I am _so_ sorry you felt like you couldn't talk to me. But honey," Darry's voice wavers off. "I miss them too. So much. We all do. You're not alone... you've never been alone."

"I know I'm not Soda, baby, and I know I never will be. But I was his brother, too, ya' know. And I _know_ he'd have knocked your block off if he saw you like this. He loved you so much... he loved you more than anyone ever could. I miss him every day, Pone. But I also know, I'm still your brother, too. We got each other, and I'm always going to do my best to be there for you. And I can't... I can't lose you, too. I love you, little buddy," Darry finishes.

Pony says nothing as he pulls on Darry's arm and clings to him in a tight embrace. Sobbing into his shoulder, all Darry can make out is. "I love you too, Dar, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. I-"

"Shh... you're gonna be okay, Ponyboy. _We're_ gonna be okay..."

 **- XxX-**

 _Yeah spinning bottles,_

 _Spinning_ _bottles_

 **- XxX-**

Sodapop Curtis sighs as he hops into the cab of the taxi he managed to call over. He tells the man the address of his childhood home, the one he hasn't seen in a little over a year and a half. As they begin to drive, he wonders how in the hell he got here.

He'd been over in Vietnam by himself ever since Steve left. He'd been fighting for months with him (even if not directly), and now that he was gone, all he could think about was going home. He missed them all so much, and it hurt way more than any bullet ever could. He knew his latest mission was the most dangerous one he had faced yet, but he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter of which assignments he went on.

Everything had been going well up until the very end. His comrade had thought the coast was all clear, when in reality a sniper was still in position. He signalled Soda to move out, and he got shot down in his stomach almost immediately.

Rupturing his aorta artery in the process, Soda almost died. However, after a life-saving emergency surgery and being stuck in a 3 month long coma, Soda survived the ambush.

It took Soda a month to recover physically enough to be able to handle the transport back to Oklahoma.

The week before his departure, he tried calling his brothers multiple times, alerting them of his return home. Shockingly, though, he got no answer, and worry began to overcome him.

Sighing as the taxi reaches his destination, he thanks the man, pays, grabs his bag, and exits the vehicle. Eagerly, he runs up the stairs to his home and rushes inside. He hears a voice in the kitchen and catches the end of his oldest brother's conversation, "... yeah Steve, Two just got here I think... uh-huh... we should be there in 20, 'kay? ... will do. Thanks man, see you later."

He drops his bag and walks into the kitchen, claiming, "and here I thought you had dropped dead."

Darry freezes in his spot and drops his glass, efficiently shattering it. He knows that voice, he could never forget it, and he's clearly lost his mind, because he was certain he'd never be able to hear it again. He refuses to turn around, knowing false hope and disappointment were all that would be waiting there.

"Uh, Dar, you okay there? Pretty sure the glass goes in the sink, not in pieces into the trash," Soda chuckles, laughing at his own joke.

After a few agonizing seconds that felt like ages, Darry finally turns around. His face turns the color of paste, and he has to grip the counter to avoid falling onto the ground, and face planting into the broken glass.

As if reading his mind, Soda voices his concerns saying, "Um, Darry, you ain't lookin' so good. You should probably sit down before you _fall_ down." As he goes to help his brother, Darry jerks away from the approaching Soda, who raises his hands up in surrender.

"Woah, Dar, easy... what's wrong?"

"You... y-you're... God, I knew I was sleep deprived, but now I'm hallucinating?" Darry stutters.

"Figures you haven't slept, nothing really has changed. Come on, quit messing around Darry, you're freaking me out," he says as he nervously chuckles, clearly forced.

While the stare down between the two brothers continues, Two-Bit finally walks through the door. "Sorry I'm running late, Darry, I had car trouble. I figure Steve'll take a-" He cuts himself off, falling into the doorframe. "-Oh Jesus Christ."

"Oh God, Two, not you, too! What the hell is the matter with you guys?" Soda exasperately says.

"Two-Bit, please tell me you see him too," Darry begs, finally speaking coherently.

"Only if you say it first, I ain't about to admit to seeing a dead man."

"WHAT?" Soda screams, looking down at himself as if to confirm it, "Hate to break it to you guys, but I don't feel dead. Nor do I look dead. So yeah, I'm gonna say, that it's safe to say here, that I'm very much NOT dead! What are you two talking about?!"

Darry seems to snap out of it, and immediately captures his brother in a tighter-than-tight bear hug. He begins to openly breakdown into his shoulder, while Two-Bit pulls up a chair, sits down, and just stares at the pair, muttering a curse under his breath.

"Can someone please explain what is going on?! You guys are scaring me now, what the-"

"Soda, we all thought... we were all so sure... it doesn't make any sense... you-you died in action last month!" Darry cries.

"Um, well clearly I didn't?! Where did you get that idea from?" Soda hysterically questions.

Darry releases his brother and opens the drawer containing all their important papers. He continues to scavenge through it, until finally he finds the dreaded letter he opened only a month ago. He turns to Soda who takes the paper warily. Scanning over the paper, his eyes slowly widen and all the blood drains from his face. "This- guys, this is all wrong! I mean clearly y'all can see it is, I'm standing right here! I got caught in an ambush and fell into a _coma!_ But I mean, I didn't die! Why in God's name did the army send you this shit?" Sodapop angrily sighs.

"Nothing we can do about it now. God, Soda, we all... we missed you so much dude," Two-Bit gulps, embracing Soda while giving Darry a knowing look.

"I missed y'all too, Two-Bit. Now, where's Steve? I heard you say you were meeting up with him. And where's Ponyboy?" Sodapop hurriedly asks, watching as the two other men look at each other apprehensively, unsure of how to bring up the next topic of conversation.

"Soda, you um... you're gonna wanna sit down for this," Darry finally warns.

"Darry, I just found out I was apparently dead. It doesn't get much worse than that," Sodapop states confidently.

"Oh trust me, buddy- it does," Two-Bit says, dragging his chair over, and gently pushes Soda into the seat.

"Alright, will someone answer my questions now, please?!" Soda begrudgingly mumbles.

Two-Bit stares at Darry, as if to tell him, _this one's on you_. So, with a sigh, Darry begins. "Soda, once Steve came back from 'Nam he was... different-"

"What kind of different?" Soda worriedly asks.

"Not the good kind, Pepsi Cola. He turned to some bad stuff to try to feel good again and he-"

"Darry, just get to the point!" Soda rushes.

"He got caught up in drinking and drugs, Soda. Then the letter came and all hell broke loose. He distanced himself from the what was left of us, and went outta' his mind. He didn't end up snapping out of it and pulling through until..." Two-Bit trails off, not wanting to explain to his friend about everything that happened with his little brother.

"Until what? You guys, come on, quit looking at each other like that and quit stopping midsentence! Someone just tell me damn straight what happened!" Soda yells.

"Soda, it's about Pony-" Darry starts.

He tenses in his chair, and somehow becomes paler. As he clenches his jaw and tightens his fist, he gulps and forces out, "What. Happened."

"You know him better than anyone, Soda. So, you know he feels things differently, and in turn copes with things differently," Darry considers his next few words. "He was holding up okay the first few months... falling into a slight slump, but he was still functioning, hanging on to what little hope we had. Then Steve came back, you didn't, and that letter..."

Soda cuts him off, "Darry, I'm not gonna ask again. Where's. Our. Brother?!"

Darry's eyes well up with tears at the news he's about to deliver. "He followed Steve done the same dark path. Finding trouble, drinking, drugs-"

"NO! He wouldn't do that!" Soda cries. "Damnit Darry, where is he?!"

"About a week ago, Pony hit his breaking point. He-um... he tried to... he- Soda, I really don't know how I'm supposed to tell you this but... P-Pony tried to kill himself. He's in the hospital," Darry finally states.

Had he not been sitting, Soda's absolutely sure he would have fainted. For a few moments, Soda stops breathing. "W-w-what? H-how bad? Is he... is h-he still..."

Two-Bit takes over, seeing Darry's close to breaking. "He overdosed on LSD and got severe alcohol poisoning. They lost..." Two-Bit sighs, trailing off. "He died twice; but your brother fought and he won, just like a true Curtis. As the doctors put it, he's 'one helluva fighter'. That's where we were heading, we've been taking shifts all week staying with him, and Steve's up right now."

Soda says nothing as he tries to process what he's heard. Unwillingly, his tears begin to slide down his face even as he tries to stop them. Suddenly, he stands up on his feet, and turns to the door, but before he can go anywhere, his older brother gently grabs his shoulder. "What are you doing, Darry?! We gotta' go see him!"

Darry looks at Two-Bit, then finally at his brother. "Soda, we gotta be careful about this. As far as he knows, you're dead and not coming back. He's not exactly stable right now, either-"

"So what, you're not gonna let me see our brother?!" Soda yells.

"Of course we are, but... Soda, we gotta break the news to him or something before you go running in there. Considering how we reacted, imagine what Pony could do," Darry lightly speaks.

Soda sighs, "Okay... okay. I just wanna see him, Dar. He needs to... h-he needs to know that I'm-"

"I know, Pepsi Cola. I know. Why don't you go shower, cool off, then change, and we'll go, 'kay?"

Soda nods off, and proceeds to go to his old room. 20 minutes later, he emerges freshly clean in his usual jeans and flannel. Without any time to waste, they all hop into the car to make the 15 minute drive to the hospital. Soda fidgets the entire way, nerves racking his entire body.

Finally, they reach the hospital, and head to Pony's room. The closer they get, the more antsy Sodapop becomes. Once outside his door, Darry turns to Two-Bit and Soda. "I'm going to go prep him for... well, Soda... and I'll send Steve... out here too, I guess."

With a nod and an unspoken agreement between them, Darry slowly turns the knob and opens the door. Steve immediately turns his attention from a sleeping Ponyboy to a standing Darry. "Where the _hell_ have _you_ been?! You were supposed to be here 45 minutes ago! Kid's been freaking out over here ever since! I finally got him to shut up and sleep 20 minutes ago, with the help of a nurse, and _now_ you show up? What the hell is wrong with you?! And where's Two-Bit, you forget about him, too?" Steve angrily whispers, afraid to set off the sleeping 16 year old behind him.

Darry just looks at him, and repeats the same words he just said to his other brother. "Steve, you should sit down-"

"Like hell I'm going to sit down! Answer me, damnit!"

Darry sighs, "Soda's back."

Steve pales and looks at Darry as if he lost his mind. "Darry... Soda's dead. He died a month ago, remember?" He delicately states, afraid of setting him off now, too.

"Don't believe me? Trust me, Two-Bit and I didn't either. Go walk outside and see for yourself. I gotta break the news to him," Darry states, pointing at Ponyboy.

Steve reluctantly goes to the door, ready to prove to his delusional friend that he's insane, and opens the door. Immediately he runs into Sodapop and Two-Bit on the other side and freezes in his spot, doing his best not to fall over.

"Hiya Stevie! Look who I found!" Two-Bit exclaims as Steve glares at him.

"Hey buddy... long time, no-" Sodapop shyly speaks, getting cut off as Steve tackles him into his own bear hug.

"Soda... what... how-" Steve questions, on the verge of tears.

"You still owed me that 1956 chevy hot wheel you stole after chucking it at my head when we first met. Couldn't leave without collecting your debt."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Darry sits down and gently shakes his brother awake.

"Hey kiddo, can you wake up for me?" Darry whispers.

"5 more minutes..." Pony sleeply groans.

"Trust me, Little Colt, you wanna wake up for this," Darry tells him.

Slowly, Ponyboy opens his eyes and looks at his brother questioningly. "Where have you been?!"

Darry ignores the question, and bluntly states, "Someone's here to see you."

Ponyboy's expression etches even more confusion at his brother's words. "Who, a social worker? I don't wanna talk to anybody else, Darry. Where'd Steve and Two-Bit go, anyways?"

"No, not a social worker, and they're outside talking with someone," Darry tells him.

"Who?" Ponyboy asks again.

And as he says that, all 3 men burst through the door, unable to wait any longer. Steve's an emotional mess, Two-Bit's grinning from ear to ear, and Sodapop pushes his way out between the two. "Hey Ponyboy."

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep_.

"Darry..." Ponyboy trails off, turning to his older brother shakily.

"We'll give you guys a momemt," Darry softly speaks, dragging the other two men out of the room.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep_.

Sodapop hesitantly moves forward, and takes a seat in one of the chairs closest to Pony's bed. He stares at his baby brother, and realizes he hasn't seen him in over a year and a half. "Gosh Pone, I see you inherited my good looks. No surprise there, huh? 16 does wonders. I think you might be taller than me, too," Sodapop chuckles, further worried when Ponyboy doesn't make a sound. "Baby, please say something. Anything."

"You're dead," Ponyboy whispers, barely audible. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Pone, I'm not-" Soda begins to explain.

"YOU'RE DEAD!" Ponyboy shouts, startling his older brother. Ponyboy looks up to him with tears rolling down his cheeks at a rapidly growing rate. "You've been dead! You have to be dead! You're _supposed_ to be dead! I got the letter myself. We sti-still have the flag! I was there, Soda! Darry wasn't there to protect me this time, and neither were you! The minute those damn soliders knocked on our front door, I knew... no one knocks on our door. The only other time was the crash... no, Soda you can't be here! Mom, Dad, Johnny, Dally, Steve, you... you've all been gone, you all _left!_ You weren't coming back, and I had to accept it, and I couldn't! Now that I'm finally starting to, you come back? You're not really here, you can't be! For months I waited for you, you _promised_ you'd come back; I've dreamed up every scenario possible where you would come home, and you _never_ did! You never _would!_ So I lost it! You were _everything_ to me Soda, and you- you just left. You're gone. I can't go through this again, because I know this isn't real, and I can't handle when reality throws me down again. You can't- you can't be here-" Ponyboy sobs.

Sodapop stands up and carefully embraces his brother, efficiently cutting him off. Ponyboy in return buried his head into Soda's shoulder, crying for all the pain he's bottled up over the years. For the parents he lost too young, and the missed time he'd never get back with them. For his best buddy that he never truly grieved for, and the close friend he lost that same night. For his brother's best friend, who would never be the same after that damn war, and the dark path he went down. For his brother, his favorite person, his other half, and the special bond that he'd thought died with him, one he'd thought he'd never get back.

And finally, he cries for himself. He sobs for the boy he used to be, the one who had to grow up way too fast. He cries for the lonely nights, where all he wanted was someone to tell him it'd all be okay, but there was no one there to tell him. He cries for all the trouble he caused, and the life he took for granted. He cries for every time he picked up those damn bottles, and every time he spun out of control with them. He replays that desperate night that took place only a week ago, where it was all too much, and he almost ended his life- and for that moment, he sobs harder than he ever has before.

"Shh, baby... I'm right here, I'm okay. I ain't leaving you, I got you. I'm not going anywhere. It's okay. Shh... I got you," Soda mumbles into his brother's ear, holding back his own tears at his brother's breakdown.

After a few long moments of Ponyboy letting out everything he's held in over the years, his cries begin to lighten and slow down. Once he's finally recollected enough of his composure, Soda nudges his brother and whispers, "Scoot over."

Complying with his request, Ponyboy begins to move towards the edge of his bed with the help of his older brother. Avoiding the IV attached to Pony, Soda carefully lays down next to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, gently pulling him in closer to lay on his chest.

"Feel that, Pone?" Soda asks while rubbing his brother's back. "It's a heartbeat, and it ain't coming from your monitor. That's my heart, still beating strong... really fast actually, hasn't calmed down all day. I never died, Pony. I never left," Soda reassures.

"What about the letter, Soda?"

"I don't know what happened, Pone. I just know it was a mistake. My last mission in 'Nam, I got hit by a sniper in an ambush. I fell into a coma around the time you got that house visit with the letter. I woke up about a week and a half ago. Tried calling the house but... Pone, you going to tell me what happened?"

"Soda, do we really-" Pony begins to beg.

"Yeah, baby, we gotta' talk about it. What- why would you ever do something so stupid?" Soda whispers.

"Soda, you don't... I'm not the good little 15 year old kid brother you knew and last saw. You left, and things... things changed. And not for the better. At first I tried to keep everyone together for your sake, at the very least. About 6 months into your leave, though... I started falling apart. I tried so damn hard, Soda... really, I did; but Darry was always working, and Two-Bit was always so drunk off his own ass, that he couldn't even remember who I was. Then, when Steve came home three months later, and he wasn't the same, it got worse. He drank more than Two-Bit and Darry combined, and he started... he started taking drugs, Soda. At that point, I just... I stopped caring. I hung out with Curly and his guys more, we'd get drunk, cause fights, and get into all sorts of trouble. I didn't start the drugs until the letter came. Once I started, though... I couldn't stop. By the time Darry realized how bad off I was, it was too late, and I was in too deep. Then last week... I lost it. I ended up on the side of the road where... where the crash happened, then I ended up at Buck's after. In Dally's room, to be exact. I looked in the mirror and... I didn't know who was staring back at me. I lost everyone, and the few people I had left... I was nothing more than a disappointment to them. I just- God, Soda I was so tired and desperate, and there was so much _pain_... I didn't even realize what I was doing. I just... I just wanted it all to end, and I wanted to _die_. I wanted to go back to a place that actually _felt_ like home. I don't remember most of it, it's all hazy. The next thing I know and can actually remember, I'm waking up in the hospital surrounded by a sober but hungover Steve, an emotional Darry, and a serious Two-Bit. It was stupid, Sodapop-"

"Damm straight it was stupid!" Soda cries out, clinging to his younger brother. "Pony... God, I can't- do you realize what would have happened if I had come home and you were... d-dead? Ponyboy, _I'd_ end up six feet under with you! God, Pony just the thought... I couldn't even imagine what you had to go through. I'm... I'm _so_ sorry you guys had to go through that. But let me get something straight right now. Never, _ever_ have you been a disappointment. Not in my eyes, and not in theirs. Even if something did happen and I wasn't alive, you'd still have scared me shitless at what you just attempted. I- I love you so much kiddo, I just- you can't- you ever even try to pull this shit again Ponyboy, and I'll bring you back to life just to kill you again myself, savvy?" Sodapop threatens through his tears.

"Loud and clear. I love you too Sodapop," Pony whispers, still clinging tightly to his brother.

The two brothers don't say anything for awhile, both afraid to disrupt the quiet peace that surrounds them. It isn't until Pony's breathing slowly begins to even out that Soda decides to say something.

"Get some rest, baby. I'll be here when you wake up," Soda mumbles, kissing his brother lightly on his temple.

"But Soda-"

"Pone, look at me," Soda demands, and waits until he has his brother's full attention before continuing. "I'm alive, and I'm not leaving. There's nothing to be afraid of. Alright? Just relax and get some sleep," Soda softly commands.

"Yeah okay," Ponyboy yawns sleepily. "I love you, Soda."

"I love you too, baby," Soda mumbles, "so much."

It isn't long after Ponyboy falls asleep, that Soda joins in right beside him. But before he does, he whispers to his brother's sleeping form, "You can't get rid of me that easily, Ponyboy. M'always gonna be here... _Always_."

 **- XxX-**

And that's it! Thank you all so much for spending your time reading this, it means a lot. If you'd review, I'd be incredibly thankful, as your responce is very important to me. Follows and favorites are great too, though, haha. I have some more ideas in the works that I'd like to continue with, but really all depends on what feedback I get here.

Don't be a silent reader! :))


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